


Ultimate Eddsworld Oneshots

by TheLittlestAngel



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Absolutely no smut, Angst, F/F, F/M, FNaF crossover, Fluff, Gen, I don't know if I got all the characters down, I have very particular headcanons for the characters, I'll do crossovers as well, Like seriously ANY ship, M/M, Monster Tom, Multi, NO WAY NO HOW, OOC characters, Other, RL tord, Requests, Slow Updates, any ships are okay, but I hope so, crossovers, fnaf - Freeform, if you like this read my other fic, is this enough tags yet, just put requests in the comment section, kill this fic, kind of a side project, let me know if I didn't, monster edd - Freeform, monster matt, oneshots, really anything that has to do with Eddsworld, updates less slow than I anticipated, what am I doing with my life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 14:31:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16042379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittlestAngel/pseuds/TheLittlestAngel
Summary: Welcome, children, to this collection of Eddsworld-related fluff, angst, crossovers, and really anything that isn't smut. This is really just a side projects of mine, so updates will be slow. Probably. Maybe.You guys know the drill, comment a scenario, ship, AU, crossover, or really anything, and if I like it, I'll try to get around to writing it.Also, when I say 'crossover', I don't mean 'FNaF but the animatronics have the names of the Eddsworld people', I mean 'Edd's an idiot who accidentally got the gang in FNaF, where they have to interact with the FNaF people'. And no Undertale. That fandom is dead to me.I WILL DO ANY SHIP, AU, SCENARIO, ANYTHING. ANYTHING BUT SMUT. One thing about crossovers are that I don't know every fandom, so if I don't do a crossover request, it might be because I don't know enough on the other fandom.





	1. Expert

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is an expert from my TomTord story 'Consequences', so you guys can see my writing style. Request in the comments, and don't forget to say a scenario, ships (if any), AUs, stuff like that.

“Tom?” 

 

I turn around to glare at whoever disturbed me, relaxing slightly when I take in a familiar mess of brown hair and a baggy green hoodie. Edd. 

 

“Tom,” He continues, “Matt’s been texting your phone nonstop. Should you go answer it?” I can hear him implying something. Probably that he wants me to answer the phone. Deciding to do the logical thing, I ignore him and reach for the TV remote, pretending I don’t see Edd’s exasperated face. Just when I’ve gotten my hands on it, however, said phone starts ringing. 

 

Wincing slightly at the blaringly loud sound, my slightly hungover brain still refusing to process anything louder than a whisper, I heave myself off of Edd’s couch, where I’ve been lounging for the last half hour. (I’d have stayed longer if not for the bloody phone.) Edd raises his eyebrows, obviously surprised I got my ass off of his couch, and points into his kitchen, where I assume I left my phone. 

 

Matt’s shrill voice grates against my ears once I pick up my phone.

 

“Tom!” He starts, hysteria evident in his girly voice. “Tom, there’s a strange man outside who has absolutely no fashion sense holding a gun who’s been standing outside my door for the last five minutes and he won’t go away and I tried to text you and Edd-” I cut off his monologue, fear beginning to bubble up in my stomach.

 

“Matt, what the hell are you talking about? Who’s outside your door?” I respond, trying to keep my voice calm. Edd moves next to me, a question in his eyes, but I turn away.

 

“I don’t know but HE HAS A GUN!” Wails Matt through the phone, and I cringe. Seeing my discomfort, Edd grabs the phone.

 

“Hold on, we’ll be right over,” He says, and quickly hangs up. “What was that about?” 

 

“Matt says there’s a guy with a gun outside his apartment who’s been knocking on his door.” I immediately want to take back my words, as Edd inhales sharply, furrowing his brow.

 

“Tom, we have to rescue him!” 

 

I roll my eyes. Sockets. Whatever. “You can rescue him. He’s your boyfriend~,” My words are met with a punch in the arm. 

 

“Matt and I are straight. Now shut up and let’s go.” Edd drags me through his apartment into the hall. 

 

Once in the hall connecting all the apartments, I see why Matt was worried. The man is wearing a stained white tank top, has wild, matted hair, and yes, is holding a pistol in his left hand. I shiver, imagining that gun pointed at me, instead of held slack. As if that’s not bad enough, though, he’s injured.

 

Whatever happened to the strange man was bad. Worse than bad. His right arm, and the side of his face are...well, the only word is horrific. His right arm is completely limp at his side, and covered in deep slashes, some of which ooze blood, and the ones that must be the deepest have scraps of bandages wrapped around them. Almost all of the skin on his arm, neck, and what’s visible of his head is burnt and red, some of the flesh is peeling, and judging by the slightly lopsided way he stands, his leg and side are just as hurt. 

 

I cringe at the sight, and Edd yelps from next to me. I sush him, but the man turns slightly. ‘Damnit,’ I think, wincing. I would have preferred to have figured out what he wants, and better yet, how he made it into a private apartment complex, but it’s too late now.

 

“Excuse me?” His voice is soft, with the barest hint of an accent decidedly not British. German, perhaps. For a moment I consider Norwegian, and shiver as I picture silver eyes staring into my soul. I have to remind myself Tord died before I can get my suddenly spiking heartbeat under control, before I launch myself at him, before I wrap my fingers around his burnt neck, before I murder the poor guy. “Excuse me, I’m staying in an apartment with a few friends next door. Sadly, I got in an accident that ended up with us going broke, and I was wondering if you could spare some bandages and painkillers-” He turns the rest of the way to face us, and freezes.

 

One moment I’m lunging forward at those silver-grey eyes, and the next moment Edd has a hold on my hoodie sleeve, his eyes wide. 

 

“Oh god...What happened to you?” Asks Edd, surprisingly pale. Almost as pale as Tord’s-no, not Tord’s face. God, what’s wrong with me? The man probably has no idea who I am, although he did stop at the sight of us. Probably the damn black eyes. Sockets. Whatever.

 

“I got in a fight with a few...friends.” He replies. I bite my tongue so I don’t say ‘I’m not your friend,’ reminding myself that it’s not Tord. Those eyes though…

 

“Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll tell Matt to come out.” Edd reddens slightly, realizing how that sounded, and I can’t suppress a smile from creeping onto my face. “Not like that,” He snaps in my ear, and I chuckle. Edd looks back at the stranger, who has a strange expression on his face, somewhere between amusement and terror. “Listen - sorry our friend didn’t let you in. We had some trouble with a friend a few weeks ago, and Matt’s been jumpy ever since.” For some reason I want to stop Edd from speaking, I want to run away from the man, and yet I want to stay exactly where I am. Safe, for now. “If you like you can come into my place and we’ll bandage you up.”

 

“No, I wouldn’t want to bother you,” Says the man, his gaze now fixed on the ground. “I don’t want to keep you, and I have to go.” It’s a lame excuse, and I smirk, watching as he hurries off, walking towards the door at the beginning of the hall. Poor guy doesn’t know what he’s got himself into, putting Edd the Mom into the equation. RIP unknown-man-with-Tord’s-eyes.

 

“No, I don’t think so.” Edd lets go of my hoodie and dashes in front of the stranger. “You said you’re broke. You obviously don’t have the money to afford bandages-” Edd gestures to the scraps of cloth around his arm, “-And looking at those burns, you haven’t even cleaned your arm. You’re going to get infected, if you aren’t already.”

 

“I’ve been hurt before.” The man sounds irked, surprisingly enough. “I know how to take care of myself.” 

 

“Have you ever been burnt as bad as you are now?” Retorts Edd, just as irritated.

 

“Let me see…” The man narrows his eyes. Well, sort of. The right half of his face doesn’t seem to move much. Whatever happened to him must of ruined his facial muscles. “I’ve been shot. Twice. I’ve fallen out of an airplane. I was in said airplane when it blew up. I was bitten by a zombie.” He pauses. “Still not sure how I survived that…” At the mention of the undead, I narrow my eyes. Tord was bitten by a zombie. Of course, half of the UK got the apocalypse, so this man being bitten shouldn’t surprize me. “I fell about fifty feet into a pit, then had someone land on top of me. I was almost gutted by a friend’s rottweiler. So yes, I’ve been hurt badly.”

 

“But not like this, and never without being tended to, I bet,” Snaps Edd. “Tom, go on down to the store and get some more bandages. And some aspirin. This guy’s giving me a headache.”

 

“Nah,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “This is more entertaining. Besides, someone’s gotta go get Matt.” Something Edd said strikes me as odd, and I turn to the stranger. “You never told us your name.”

 

“Pat,” Says the man, after a brief pause. His accent strengthens slightly.

 

“Well, Pat, I’m Edd, this is Tom, and the man hiding in his room thinking you’re a conscripter is Matt.” I nod at Pat as Edd says my name.

 

“Conscripter? Oh - right, sorry about the gun. Although, now that I think about it, if you’d like to join my army...” His eyes - well, his left eye, as his right eye seems to be partially blind, from the way it doesn’t focus - brighten. 

 

“Been there, done that,” I say, smiling a little. “It...was interesting.”

 

“Heh, I tried...Well, sorry I brought the pistol. At least I didn’t bring the AK-47, ja?” Pat returns my smile with a lopsided grin.

 

“You have a Soviet assault rifle in your room,” Says Edd. It’s not a question. 

 

“Yes, I do, You know your guns.” 

 

Something Pat said makes me hesitate, and I glance at Edd. He nods slightly, catching my eye

 

“Where are you from, anyways? Not very many Brits say ‘ja’,” Asks the brunette, and I return his nod.

 

“Norway,” Replies Pat. His voice sounds slightly strained, as though he forced out the word. Norway would explain the accent, and - oh. Norway. I’m an idiot. I would laugh, if I wasn’t two seconds away from shaking Pat as hard as I can to find if he knows Tord. I move forward to intercept him, but Edd reads my mind, grabbing my arm.

 

“Tom, Pat’s hurt. We’ll take care of him, and than you can question him about - you know.” Murmurs Edd. I nod, slightly put off by Edd’s refusal to say Tord’s name. “Alright than,” Edd continues, addressing Pat in a louder voice, “Matt will come over eventually.” Edd wrinkles his nose. “I hope. Anyways, Pat, why don’t you c’mon over to my place, and we’ll clean you up?”

 

“Ok…?” Says Pat, phrasing it like a question. I don’t blame him; when Edd’s in ‘Mom Mode’, it’s difficult to get him to snap out, and in the meantime he suffocates everyone around him. It’s funny when you’re not the one being suffocated.

 

“Wonderful,” Replies Edd, bustling off. As Pat follows, I notice my earlier guess was correct - from the stiff way he follows Edd, his leg and side must have gotten burnt as well. I pity him, whatever happened must have traumatized him. For a moment, I wonder who did this to him, and I promise myself when I find them, I will make them pay.


	2. Too Much Information Isn't Always Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tord finds himself with a pesky little chrush. Okay, who is he kidding, it hasn't been 'little' since he punched said crush in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Here's that mattord. I don't usually write this ship, so it's a little... off. Tord absolutely refused to stay in character. Also, it's not really fluff, but more of sort of angst with fluff at the end. Screw it, it was fun to write. I didn't mean for it to take this long though. School's kicking my ass. Also, should I write a part 2?

“Hey, Todd?” At the sound of Matt’s rather girly voice, Tord looked up from where he was huddled on the couch, fiddling with a shockingly shiny gadget. It was a bit surprising, seeing Matt; after all, none of his ‘old friends’ had really actually talked to after he had showed up on Edd’s apartment doorstep, cold and sick, with the exception of Edd saying he could sleep on the couch, and telling the wounded man were the fridge was.

“Hey, Matt.” Tord doesn’t bother telling the ginger how to pronounce his name. “What’re you doing here?” He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the couch and cringing at the jolt of pain from jostling his mangled arm.

“I dunno.” Matt shrugs, looking Tord over. “I guess I kinda need help with…” He trails off, probably attempting to remember what he needed Tord for, the latter watching with reasonable amounts of confusion.

Tord didn’t know why Matt would ask him for whatever he needed, when he had Edd and Tom, but he wasn’t complaining. It was nice to be noticed by the taller man, nice to know he wasn’t completely forgotten. It was nice...and maybe something more. Tord couldn’t quite name the rush that went through him, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. As he looked up at Matt, he could only wonder if the ginger felt the same way.

“Oh! I remembered!” It's as if a lightbulb goes off in Matt’s head; his eyes widen and his face brightens, even his posture changes slightly. It's amusing, the way he brightens up, and Tord chuckles. “I tried to talk to Tim and Ell -”

“Tom and Edd -”

“- Yeah, them, but Ell said he was busy drawing, and Tim threw a bottle at me. It almost hit my beautiful face, but since I’m so amazing, I caught it and saved the day!”

“That you did, Matt.” Tord grins, shifting so he has a better view of his former friend. 

“I know!” Matt drinks in the praise, beaming, and Tord soaks up his happiness, glad he made Matt so happy. “So anyways, I wanted to talk to you, because I've been feeling a little weird lately, and you're good at making me feel better and stuff!” 

Tord freezes, smile dropping off his scarred face. Is he? A part of him always was able to know when Matt was sad, or felt ugly, or just needed a hug, but that wasn't special; if anything, Edd was better at reading Matt than Tord was. Sure, Tord could always cheer Matt up, but half of the time it was his fault Matt was upset in the first place - the bruise covering Matt's eye was proof of that. Tord was sure he wasn't anything special, compared to the shining light that was Edd. He wasn't anyone that Matt could ever be friends with, anyone Matt could love - 

\- dear God, what was Tord even thinking.

“...Tord? Tord, are you okay?” It takes a second for Matt's words - really, just one word - to register with Tord, but when it does, Tord’s head snaps up to see his concerned friend crouching by him. 

“You remembered my name.” The smile slowly makes its way back onto Tord's face.

“Of course! How could I forget you?” Matt's voice is filled with genuine curiosity, but Tord doesn't notice. Matt remembered him. Matt really truly completely remembered him. In Matt's eyes Tord was someone worth remembering, someone worth knowing - 

Tord was someone real to Matt. 

“Tord?” Matt taps Tord’s shoulder, and the touch sends a shiver down the latter’s spine. “So, like I was saying, I've been feeling weird, but I don't think I'm sick. I mean, I'm not hungry, and I can't sleep, and I don't know what's wrong with me. I really hope I'm not sick.”

Tord blinks at the barrage of information. “I think you'll be okay.”

“I mean, I really hope so, but I…” Matt trails off, looking down. “...It’s not bad. I kinda like it.”

“Oh.” Tord runs through the possibilities in his head. “I guess...I don't know if this is it, but…” Tord isn't sure if he wants to say this, but he wants to be honest. After everything Tord did to Matt, Matt deserves the truth. It's the least he can do. “At the risk of sounding cliché, it sounds like you're in love.”

Tord is meet with absolute silence, until Matt looks directly in Tord's eyes, fixing him with an intense gaze. “Huh.”

Tord trips over his words in his haste to answer. “I-I'm not saying that's-that’s what's happening! I don't -”

Matt cuts him off. “Huh,” He repeats, turning around to leave. Tord opens his mouth to say something, but Matt's already walking out. “Thanks, Tord.” And then Matt's gone, and Tord's wondering what he did wrong.

 

Later, Tord lies on the couch with a blanket draped over him, unable to sleep. Shadows fill the darkened room, in an almost peaceful way, but Tord most certainly isn't at peace. Sure, a part of his insomnia is his arm; as Edd had been ignoring him, he had no way of getting painkillers, and without something to distract him from the pain, the constant burning was almost unbearable. However, even the pain wasn't the reason for his distress. 

What had he done wrong? He had tried to be honest, tried to help Matt, but instead, Matt had simply walked out. Tord was queasy just thinking about it. If he could go back in time, and stop it from happening... Actually, that wasn't a bad idea. Tord would definitely have to consider inventing one. Too bad he'd need some actual supplies, things only his army could supply. Not his army anymore.

After Tom had shot him out of the sky... Well, the army hasn't been happy he had lost their ultimate weapon, not to mention his injuries would most likely prevent him from ever holding a gun again. Simply speaking, he was no longer capable of being leader. With nowhere else to go, he had showed up on Edd’s doorstep. There had been some yelling, (Tom’s fault) and Edd had showed Tord to the couch, chucked some bandages in his general direction, told Tord he could eat from the fridge, and left.

Of course, that wasn’t to say he didn’t see the gang. One example of these awkward interactions was dinner earlier that day. Tord had been walking to the fridge to see if he could find something to eat, preferably pasta. There was one problem - he had to walk through Edd’s kitchen to get there. Now, normally Edd ate dinner at roughly seven PM, but at just about six thirty, Tord had walked in on not just Edd, but Matt and Tom as well. Tord was still a bit ashamed of his reaction; putting his head down so he wouldn’t see Matt, and jogging to the fridge, but there was jack he could do about it now. Well, besides berate himself for it at three in the morning. Which he was currently doing. God, he needed a life.

Tord sighed, sitting up and knocking the blanket off of him, careful not to wake a certain brown-haired man sleeping in a room adjacent to the one Tord was currently in. After all, if there wasn’t a chance of sleep, he might as well get something done.

Still being as quiet as possible as not to wake Edd, Tord walks to the kitchen, flicking on a light. He opens a drawer, grabbing a box filled with screws, a screwdriver, circuit boards, etcetera. Tord brings the supplies to the kitchen table, before walking back over to the counter to get the half-finished red prosthetic arm laying innocently there. 

Tord knows his old friends have seen his latest invention, but no one’s commented on it. Tord’s glad for that. He doesn’t like the robot arm; every time he looks at it, it reminds him of his weakness, of his failure. A part of him is glad for it, though. Well, Tord isn’t glad that he needs it, but he’s glad he has it. Who would want to run around with a robot arm for all of eternity?

 

Just as Tord's settling down with his supplies, he hears a door open. Jumping slightly, he shoves all of his supplies back into the box they came from, jumping up. To his surprise, however, it’s not a government sniper or Tom with a harpoon trying to kill him. Instead, he takes in the all-too familiar face of a certain freckled ginger blinking from the light of Edd’s kitchen.

“Oh. Hey, Tord!” Matt’s voice is cheerful as ever, if a bit quieter than usual, and rather confused. “What’re you doing up?” Tord’s face flushes, and he curses himself.

“I couldn’t sleep. You?” It’s a fight to keep his voice even.

 

“I left one of my mirrors over here, and I couldn’t go that long without admiring myself!” 

“Don’t you have...more mirrors?” Tord grins, casually sweeping the robot arm out of Matt’s line of sight.

“Huh. I guess so...I forgot.” Matt’s face scrunches up as he thinks. “Probably. I just wanted to look in that mirror!” The ginger walks over to the counter, picking up a purple mirror engraved with ‘I <3 M@’. “Found it!”

“Nice.” Tord doesn’t really pay attention to what Matt says, occupied with trying to sneak the prosthetic away.

“Hey, Tord?” Tord turns around with an amused huff to watch Matt step forward, looking more awkward than the Norwegian had ever seen him. “I wanted to say I was sorry for running out earlier.”

“Oh?” It’s a bit surprising Matt even remembers what Tord thinks of as ‘The TMI Incident’.

“Yeah. It probably wasn’t very nice.” Tord realizes that Matt most likely doesn’t actually remember the TMI Incident, it being much more likely that he told Edd or Tom directly after it happened, and was constantly reminded of it all evening. “So, uh, I wanted to say sorry.”

“Oh,” Tord repeats. It’s flattering, that Matt took the hit to his ego to apologise. 

“So, uh, I was wondering if you’d like to go get coffee sometime or something?” 

Tord blinks. Does not compute. It takes a bit for Matt’s question to register, but when it does, Tord drops the arm, forgetting about it, and walks forward to his friend.

“Of course.” And then Matt’s hugging Tord, who melts into the embrace, ignoring the twinges from his right arm. “Anything for you.” There’s something warm in his chest, as though he just chugged coffee or hot chocolate. Matt pulls back, and Tord freezes, wondering if he’s going to be rejected again, but then there’s a pair of lips smashed onto his, and Tord ignores the doubt curling in his chest under the warmth, and all he can see, all he can feel are fireworks exploding in his chest, in front of his eyes, and he melts into Matt.

“Tord, what the hell.” Tord pulls away from Matt, still on cloud nine, and freezes. There in the doorway is Edd, looking as disgruntled as one can at three in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REQUEST QUE
> 
> PRIORITY:  
> Obligatory Eddsworld and FNaF-requested by a guest
> 
> TO DO:  
> Minotaur!Tom x Sacrifice!Tord-just an idea I had.  
> Demon!Tord x Angel!Tom-another idea
> 
> And like always, remember to leave requests!


	3. Tom's Mom Cheated (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't edit this, so WELL-
> 
> This is part one of Minotaur!Tom and Sacrifice!Tord. I'll have part two out soon, but I was strangely proud of this, so I wanted to post it now. Sue me.
> 
> Remember to request! (Seriously. Your comments fuel me.)

          Tord was beginning to regret all of his life decisions. Of course, he was only seventeen years old, so it wasn’t like he had many life decisions to regret, but he was going to gripe about each and every single one of them. Actually, the only one he really regretted was him forgetting what day it was, and choosing to walk in the middle of the street.

          Tord had been the only one outside, as everyone else had barricaded themselves inside their houses. Why? Well, every year, a wealthy king on some island in the sea (Tord didn’t know it’s name, and frankly didn’t care) had requested that seven girls and seven boys get shipped across the sea to the island to be a human fucking sacrifice. Did I say ‘requested’? Oh, sorry, I meant ‘threatened with annihilation if they don’t do as they’re told.’ Well, lucky Tord, he had been taking a nice morning stroll, when some arsehole guards had decided it would be easier to kidnap some kid off of the streets than go around knocking on people’s doors asking if they’d sacrifice their children. So, long story short, he was currently tied up in the bottom of a boat with a bunch of terrified kids awaiting their doom.

          Actually, not everyone was having a panic attack. Two of his best friends were in the boat with him; a kid named Pat and his friend Pau who basically were second and third in command of a small operation called the Red Army that basically theorized about taking over the city where they lived, Athens. Oh, did I mention that Tord was in charge of it? Yeah, that’s probably important.

          So, as I was saying, Pat and Pau were thinking of ways to kill whatever beast they were going to serve as a snack to, and Tord was scanning his fellow sacrifices to see who would actually be useful in escape. Some lad with shockingly fancy clothes was talking to a sailor, waving around - damn, that’s a fancy fucking sword. Where did the guy get a sword from, anyways? Oh, wait, sword kid was standing up. Tord should probably listen.

          “Um...hey. My name’s Theseus, and, um, I’m gonna defeat the Minotaur and save you guys.” Gods, Theseus had shitty speaking skills. Actually, now that Tord stopped to think about it, he was sure he had heard that name before. Whoever it was, though, Tord didn't particularly care; the wimp would probably be the first to die, anyways.

          Pat taps Tord’s shoulder - as best he can, with bound wrists - and Tord turns to look at his friends.

          “Hey, boss?”

          “Yes?” Tord raises his eyebrows, and Pat flinches slightly, knowing firsthand of how bad Tord’s temper could be.

          “That guy, Theseus, you do know he’s the crown prince?”

          “What.”

          “Mhm.” Pau joins in the conversation. “He could be a valuable asset to our plans. Seeing as he’s a wimpy little douche, I give him five minutes before he dies. Now, as his job’s to take down the Mino-turd, whatever that is, his daddy’ll have given him some weapons of some sort. We search the body, get whatever we can, take down the beast, and rescue anyone else who’s still alive. Personally, I doubt there’ll be survivors, but the more, the better.”

          “And why might that be?” Despite how professionally detached Tord’s voice is, he feels a sliver of excitement. It is a good plan. Despite Pau’s rough manner, he’s got smarts.

          “We go back to Athens as heros.” Pat seems a bit more excited than his friend. “Why? Because we say we avenged the prince’s death. The more witnesses, the stronger our story, the more we’ll be trusted, the easier the actual take-over will be. And if Minos (Ah, yes, that was the foreign King’s name,) dies on the way out, no one has to know.” That right there was why Tord liked Pat; under the friendly mask was a cold-blooded killer. Pau often questioned Tord and Pat’s sanity for a reason, after all.

          “That could work. Nice plan.” Tord goes back to scanning the other sacrifices, looking for valuable acquaintances. The other seven girls were rather stereotypical; huge chests, tiny waists, shiny hair, full lips, the like. Tord was shocked the other men weren't drooling over them, but admittedly their predicament made it a bit hard for casual small talk. Although, if the way two shapely blondes were feeling each other up was any clue, maybe it wasn’t just the boys being shy to blame.

          There wasn’t much to say about the other boys. He knew all of them but three, after all. Besides, none of those three looked like they had any formal training in combat, which would be pretty much the only advantage they would have over the Mino-whatsitcalled. Idiots.

 

          The rest of the boat ride wasn’t eventful, although Pau almost got his ass kicked by one of the blonde lesbians, and soon enough they were at their destination. (Tord had decided to do some research, and had learned the island was called Crete, the monster was the Minotaur, and the city was called Knossos. Weird-ass names.) The fourteen sacrifices had been led into the city, blinking at the sun, and then chucked in a prison cell for a while. Yeah, you heard that right. Fourteen people in one prison cell. The conditions weren't optimal. On the bright side, Theseus had made friends with some lady. The lady being the princess of Crete. Oh, and Theseus was apparently engaged to the lady. Damn you, Theseus, selling your crown to some gold-digger for a ball of fucking yarn. Tord would laugh, if the situation wasn’t so hopeless. (Theseus still had the sword, somehow. The guards were apparently idiots who hadn’t taken it.)

          So, after a long night in a prison cell, it was time to die. A shit ton of guards (Were three dozen guards really necessary for fourteen mostly unarmed kids?) had escorted the group to a huge stone door, opened said door, and prodded them inside, then slamming the door.

          Tord supposed he should be a bit more nervous, but in all honesty, it was kind of pathetic. Cliche bones in the corners? Check. Flickering torches? Check. Ball of twine? Actually, what was that doing here? Tord looks at it, seeing that Theseus is holding it, while the other end must be attached to the door. (Somehow, Tord didn’t think the prince was smart enough to have figured that out. Ariadne, that was the princess's name, must be smarter than he originally gave her credit for. Conniving bitch.)

          Theseus led the way, creeping down a corridor, when - well, shit. That was a lot of doors to choose from. Was this a fucking maze or something? Most of the girls chose the door furthest to the west, to Theseus’ displeasure, as he chose one of the middle doors. Now that Tord thought about it, Theseus was apparently leading them straight to the beast. Tord couldn’t blame the girls for running.

          After a little while longer of walking through what apparently was a maze (What. The. Fuck.), Tord, Pau, Pat, two of the other three boys, and Theseus arrive in a huge, circular room, lined with doors. Theseus drops the ball of twine, unsheathing his sword. HOW DID HE STILL HAVE THE SWORD? Damn, in my opinion, myths make no sense. Anyways, labyrinth, monster, Tord, yada ya ya. Got it.

          Theseus steps quietly towards the slumbering mass in the center of the room. How did that get there, anyways? Don’t ask me, I’m only the author. Tord motions to another door, praying Pat and Pau understand, and ducks out of sight. His friends slip into the doorway, unseen by Theseus, who is prodding the monster awake.

          The monster is huge.

          Why why why was it so big why why why-

          Reader, get your mind out of the fucking gutter.

          The monster fully stands up, two purple horns scraping the ceiling. It’s huge, and grey, and as it turns in Tord’s direction, it’s one black eye is visible.

          One.

           Pitch.

          Black.

          Eye.

          Tord thought he knew fear; after all, living his life terrified of being thrown in prison for treason was potentially traumatizing, but upon staring into that soulless void, he realized he had absolutely no comprehension of the word fear. Because this, this - if this wasn’t truly fear, Tord didn’t know what was. For the first time, Tord thought there was a chance he wouldn’t get out of this alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you can count the number of 4th wall breaks? There are gonna be more in part two!


	4. Tom's Mom Cheated (Part Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS! I’M NOT DEAD!

The monster takes a lumbering step towards Theseus, eye narrowing. Compared to the beast, Theseus’ sword looks like a toothpick. An admittedly pointy toothpick. A toothpick that - wait, nevermind, the toothpick was snapped in half (RIP toothpick). 

Theseus looks about ready to piss his pants, poor guy. The monster/Minotaur/we all know it’s Tom - screw it, there goes the 4th wall; damn, I love breaking that thing - roars, and far away someone screams.

“Stand down, foul beast! I have come from the great city of Athens to slay you, and free the state that is my birthright-” Wow, that’s a lot of blood.

Tord watches as the Minotaur violently rips Theseus’ head off before he could finish his speech. Blood splatters the walls, some of it smearing Tord’s face. Aaaand Tord called it. Little douche would be the first to die, remember? The monster swings its head around to stare at the other two guys, stalking towards them. They don’t move.

For someone experienced with gore, when the monster reaches them, Tord closes his eyes.

He doesn’t see the blood splatter the room.

He doesn’t see them die, but he hears their screams.

When Tord’s brave enough to look up again, wiping away the blood dripping into his eyes, the monster...isn’t a monster anymore. Tord watches with a sort of morbid fascination as the horns shrink, the eye splits into two, and the monster shrinks. After a few moments, the monster is humanoid, about a head taller than Tord, with black forearms, a long grey tail, smaller purple horns, and two black voids for eyes. It’s...beautiful in a way.

It blinks, cocking it’s head, and makes a confused growling noise. Tord takes a deep breath, hoping it doesn’t see him.

Except.

Except then it starts to talk.

“Oh Gods.” It’s voice is quiet, and slightly raspy from disuse. “Oh Gods,” It repeats, sinking to the floor. “Not again. Please no.” It - he - what are the correct pronouns for a bloodthirsty monster-turned-human anyways? - looks up, and Tord is shocked to see that tears are streaming out of it’s eyes. Sockets. Whatever.

Tears.

The beast is crying.

Tord doesn’t notice that he left the shadows and is walking toward the...thing….sobbing in the center of the room. He doesn’t notice….until he’s standing right there.

Tord, you goddamn idiot.

The monster snaps it’s head up. “Wha-?” It’s eyes widen at the sight of Tord standing next to him.

“Hello,” Tord’s voice is soft. “Are you alright?” He feels as though he’s in a dream, standing next to the monster. 

Said monster hiccups. “Yes. Yes, I think I’m good.” The monster has a strange accent under his rough voice. Crisp words with strange, lilting vowels.

“Wonderful.” There’s an awkwardness to the conversation now, and Tord searches for a way to change that. “Pau, Pat, it’s safe.”

“Fabulous,” Mutters Pat sarcastically, slipping out of the shadows to Tord’s side, Pau close behind him.

“These are my soldiers, Patryck and Paul.” Tord keeps his voice even, despite how surreal the whole thing is. “My name is Tord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh. I’m Thomas.” The monster gives the trio a strange look. “Is there...anyone else?”

“Yes. Seven - no, eight others.” Pat shrugs.

“Oh,” Thomas repeats. “That’s...wonderful.” 

“Yeah, we got our fucking witnesses...now can we go?” Pau grumbles, although I catch him looking curiously at Thomas.

“No...I’m dangerous. I do not want you to get hurt.” Thomas looks down, stepping away from me.

Well. I certainly don’t know why I feel so sad, seeing him down, but I want to see Thomas smile.

“No. Apologies, but that isn’t an option. You’re coming with us.” And when I grab his black arm and pull him through the maze, I catch a glimpse of that smile.

For the first time ever, I feel truly happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry about the cutoff. I have three other requests to work on, and I wanted to get this out.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok guys! If you liked this expert, the full story is on my profile. Remember to comment requests and stuff! (Seriously. Your comments are like the reason for my existence.)


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